Vacation [Stateside]

In December I went to California for the holidays. My parents, sister, and future brother-in-law all flew in, and we saw my grandparents, two sets of aunts and uncles and some cousins on my dad's side of the family. It was the first time I have spent with family and my first time in the States since August 2010.

The whole experience was surreal in that it felt so very normal. After such a long absence I somehow expected it to be hard to pick up where I had left off, but that's the nature of family at its best; the important things don't change, and the things that do change all get rolled into the mix with good cheer. We ate, drank, laughed, cried, celebrated, lazed, and worked where appropriate. I walked the beach, visited the Monarch butterfly grove, went sea kayaking, took a trip to admire the opulence and finery at Hearst Castle, did some wedding dress shopping with my sister, and met my cousin's new little baby.

There were two moments that particularly struck my Guatemalan sensibilities.


Moment 1: Scarcity and Abundance

When I arrived in Texas to change flights, I went through customs and with a thrill filled up my water bottle from the drinking fountain. Free, cold, drinkable water. I hadn't realized that I needed to go through security again to board my new flight. I approached the line and a TSA agent told me I needed to dump out my bottle. I stared at him. At my mostly full Nalgene. Quailed at the waste. Considered chugging the whole thing there and then.

Mentally I knew that there was another drinking fountain on the other side of the security scanners, ready to dispense more free, cold, drinkable water. I knew that we use potable water to flush toilets in the US. This wasn't a huge deal. Emotionally, I reacted as someone who lives in a community that subsists on captured rain water, where I bring in drinkable water from the nearest city and where the dry season means limited bathing, laundry, and dishes.

I looked at the garbage can where he pointed. Took one swallow of water. Poured it out. Went on.


Moment 2: Serenity and Anxiety

One evening at my grandparents house my uncle announced he was heading back to the hotel for the evening. On foot. After dark. Someone offered to drive him, but he shrugged it off and said he'd enjoy the exercise on such a nice night.

My stress level spiked. My stomach tied into knots. I reminded myself we were not in Guatemala, and that pick-pockets, muggers, and kidnappers were hardly likely to target my uncle in a sleepy little beach town in California.

He left, spent the night in the hotel, and arrived back at the house the following morning without incident.  


At the end of the vacation, I mistily hugged each family member, content that at least this time I know I'll be seeing them all again much more quickly than the last span of 16+ months apart. I had a great little bonus visit with a childhood friend who was also vacationing in San Francisco, and then made the trip home to Guatemala.

I stepped back into my life here without much thought, again, things felt surreal in that they felt so normal. How can I comfortably inhabit  the world of Scarcity and Anxiety, as well as Serenity and Abundance? In the US airports I made small talk with strangers, sat between iPad and laptop users while I happily read on my Kindle, and took out my wallet without a second thought as I swiped purchases on my credit card. In the Guatemalan airport I smoothly picked up my defensive living habits of hiding valuables, stowing cash all over my body, and judiciously choosing who to make eye contact with or smile at.

As I walked down the muddy path to the house I share with my host family, my three host siblings shouted my name and ran to me to help carry my bags. I stumbled over the Q'eqchi', but it came out alright. Canchita meowed plaintively at me while I fumbled with the keys, but one look at her plump self assured me she was by no means neglected in my absence. In the evening I walked into the kitchen with my glass of water and tore into the fresh tortillas, easily using them in place of silverware to ferry food to my mouth. Sometimes I wonder what it is I am accomplishing here, but at the very least, I have made a home.

Week in San Marcos

After IST, Wendy and I headed back to site for just over a week, only to turn around and leave again.  During IST we had connected with a Food Security PCV one year ahead of us who has done a lot of work on estufas mejoradas (improved stoves), which is one of the projects that we are working to implement up in A.V. (replacing cooking over an open fire).  So, we arranged to spend a few more of our training days out in his site in San Marcos.  It took us two days to get there, we spent two days constructing two stoves, one day delivering construction materials, and then headed back to the PC Office again for the All Volunteer Conference and 4^th of July festivities. 

One of the stoves we built, approaching the finish.

Dolled up for the 4th

Dia de la Madre

In Guatemala, Mother's Day is officially May 10. In the U.S., I feel like the day is mostly a celebration between each set of mother and child. Younger kids usually do some sort of Mother's Day craft project at school to take home, but generally it's something kept within the family.

Not so, here. Since the holiday is on a specific date, it often does not fall on a Sunday.  In fact, even were it to fall during a weekend, the schools would pick the nearest weekday to have their Dia de la Madre events.

Down in town at the junior high school, classes were suspended all week long. I learned this after attempting to teach one class Monday afternoon and then realizing that none of the other teachers were holding class. Upon talking to the director, I learned that there was just too much bulla (racket) for it to be worth trying to work.

The reason this turned into a week long situation is that in the school building where I help out, there are actually three separate school institutions. Each school wanted to have a separate Mother's Day celebration, so they each signed up for a different day to use the main salón (auditorium, in this case).  Now, that could have knocked out three days, but they also need days off from school to plan the activities.

On Tuesday morning I wandered up to the primary school here in my aldea to check out the festivities, and normal classes were cancelled for the day. For the first few hours the kids were just running around playing while the sound system was set up and the community gathered. By 10 a.m. things really got rolling, as a basketball tournament began between the mothers in town. Between games there was a raffle with prizes that only mothers could win. Throughout it all there was nonstop pontificating coming from the large sound system as the microphone was handed around between various community leaders who spoke in a hybrid of Spanish and K'iche' praising women and motherhood.

Watching the women play, I was impressed with how committed to the game the women were, despite mostly being dressed in their dress shoes and traditional corte, faja, and guipil outfit, which is just not conducive to exercise. The bulk of them clearly had not played before (or at least not since Mother's Day last year), but they ran with enthusiasm and hacked at each other like fouling was their job. I later learned that the winning team of the tournament would win Q200, so maybe that accounts for some of the intensity. Mostly, I just loved seeing the women who are usually so shy and retiring (some would say submissive) out there being aggressive and laughing as they ran around in front of their whole community.

Semana Santa

For Holy Week, my aldea got all dressed up. 

The catholic church had an arco, palm fronds, and fruit decorating its whole front.

The interior got rainbow banners.

The arcos had string lights, fruits, and exotic branches off interesting plants.

The archways were put in over the main road all around town.
Why does this one have U.S. flags on top?
Your guess is as good as mine.

Decorations went up around the home front, too.
I woke up one morning to find that Don Juan (my landlord/host grandfather) had spiffed up my water faucet.

In the pueblo nearby they had parade / processions on a daily basis (sometimes twice) in which the floats were large religious images (statues with regalia) carried on the shoulders of 20 or more people, walking along at a slow pace along the route. Every so often other people switch in to help carry. There are also alfombras (carpets) laid on the ground which are actually just artfully places sawdust and flower petals. Unfortunately I don't have any pictures of those, as the rain washed them away before I made it into town this weekend.

On Thursday I had the traditional holy week breakfast with my host family -- sweet bread dipped in honey with hot chocolate to drink and fruit cooked in honey sauce. It was tasty, but a bit over the top on sweets for me that early in the day. Apparently the sweets are to commemorate Jesus' last week in Jerusalem. For Easter I went to the house of a U.S. born nun who has been living here in Guatemala for over 30 years. She invited my site mate and me over for a delicious chicken and vegetable roast/stew/something that really hit the spot. It was a quiet holiday for me, punctuated by the bombas (firecrackers that sound like a cannon) that someone kept lighting off in the center of town.

Carnival

Turns out today is Mardi Gras, which is called Carnival here.  Totally snuck up on me.  The town as a whole doesn't do much, but the kids got a party at school.  Forgetting the day, I breakfasted, showered, did some quick laundry, and headed to the health post to see if any of the women in my group were around to buy veggie seeds.  Ela and Elkin came by to collect me, so I could see the party at school.

We went in to the large school courtyard and there appeared to be a strange fusion of Halloween, Holi (the color festival in India), and Easter going on.

Kids were dressed up in costumes everywhere, the girls tended toward sparkles and fairy wings (both purchased and home made), while the boys tended toward footy pajamas with a Spiderman mask.  Never mind that the footy pajamas were generally covered in dolphins or cows jumping over moons.  There was a smattering of animals... dogs, tigers, and such.  Elkin proudly sported a new Sportacus costume from Lazy Town, one of his favorite TV shows.  There were a few clowns running around (again, onesies of varying colors, topped with a classic rainbow wig), and Elkin did NOT like them.  Hendrick started out running around in a full on Batman costume, but tired of that and stripped down to the Ben 10 outfit he was wearing underneath.  Pretty sure that was his pajamas, actually.

There was colored powder and confetti everywhere.  General chaos reigned, as kids, parents, and teachers alike ran about ambushing one another with their colorful ammunition.  At first I only saw them with baggies of confetti and grabbing piles up from the floor.  Soon, I noticed the were also using cascarones (colored eggs shells filled with confetti and then closed with tissue paper).  One girl near me sort of shyly sprinkled some confetti on my head, smiling, but was too timid to throw it with much gusto.  It didn't seem to be a terribly religious celebration, but they certainly went into it with enthusiasm!  Not too different from Fat Tuesdays elsewhere, I suppose.

One teacher had a microphone and was talking over the madness trying to get just the first and second year students out in the middle of the courtyard.  Eventually most of them turned up to give their "presentation" of a dance.  Clearly nothing in particular had been planned because when they turned on the music, the kids all sort of hopped around in a mob.  Each successive grade came out as well, taking their turns.  Those not dancing were too busy attacking one another and eating snacks to pay attention.  

I was thoroughly enjoying the spectacle, and wondering whether I could get any ammunition of my own when I saw a flurry of movement to my left and I was hit squarely with an egg.  To my dismay, this was not one of the confetti filled eggs, but a fully raw egg, leaving me with white and yolk dripping down my face, hair, and shoulder, into my pockets and onto my feet. Although I hadn't been the intended target, I definitely got the full brunt of the projectile.  The girl next to me (who I think was meant to be the recipient) was horrified, and the assailant was nowhere to be seen.

So, my festivities were cut short.  I don't do that well with sticky, so I excused myself to wash my face, hair, and clothing for the second time that day.  I had to chuckle as I walked home, with egg seeping through my sweater and onto my t-shirt beneath.  Whoever threw that egg is going to have a good story to tell his buddies!

I didn't have my camera along, so I took some shots of of the patojos (kids) when they got home after I had cleaned up.  Even though Fernando and Elkin are not old enough for school, they were quick to embrace the festivities.  And, why take the costume off once at home?  Play time!!

Elkin is announcing something very important.  No idea what he said.

 

Hendrick didn't want to be in the picture, but he couldn't stand that they were posing "wrong" so came to fix them up.

Much better.  Apparently.

Feliz Navidad!

Christmas in Guatemala seems to emphasize the 24th over the 25th.  Actually, in my site we emphasized the time immediately before and after midnight between the 24th and 25th, leaving the rest of the holiday mainly quiet.

The 24th was a relaxed day at home.  I spent the morning as a busy elf secretly putting the finishing touches on some decorative garlands that I made for the extended host family.  I didn't have much money (or much of an idea what to spend it on), so I figured a little time and craftiness would go over just fine with the grandparents, aunts, and uncle.  

My gift garlands, hanging over my bed/workshop.  I told them the stars symbolized the star the Wise Men followed to Bethlehem, and that paper cranes are a symbol of peace (and my wishes for the New Year).  

In the afternoon we did a little decorating, such as placing the nacimiento (nativity scene) under the Christmas tree and spreading pine needles all over the front steps and patio (pine needles all over the ground is a must at any Guatemalan celebreation; birthday, wedding, graduation, you name it).  I helped Ela make 50 tamales, which was a breeze after the 400 from two weeks ago.  

Elkin (left) and Hendrick (right) posing around the tree and nativity scene.  Mary got broken right after lunch... Benancio came in and joked that, "Elkin ya tiene un pecado," (Elkin's got a sin already) because Mary was in three pieces.  We carefully balanced them together (no glue) and just tried not to touch the scene.  

As the evening wore on and the sun went down, the power went off.  The previously festive blaring and clashing music (both pop hits from the radio and whining tin sounding holiday tunes emanating from blinking Christmas lights) disappeared, and the town went quiet.  Ela started wrapping the kids presents by candle light out on the patio, while the kids watched and carried each gift off to set under the tree as she finished the wrapping.  Since they had been along on the shopping expedition, there was no need for secrecy.  I think they had already opened and started playing with more new toys than they ended up unwrapping later on... In the end the gifts from Tia Isabel and me were the only surprises.  

The power eventually came back on around 9:30 p.m., which was good because we were all getting drowsy by candlelight.  We had to make it to Midnight, that's when the celebration actually gets going!  To await the hour, we dug into the tamales (two kinds, yum!), hot chocolate, magdalena cake, and ponche (hot drink sort of like cider; they throw a mix of dried fruits that come pre- sugared and spiced with cinnimon into boiling water and voila!).  We also lit off a few small fireworks and sparklers to pass the time.  Well, Benancio and Hendrick lit them, lighting the fuse with the firework still in hand and throwing it to the ground at the last minute.  I stood safely to the side and enjoyed the show.

Ela's makeshift stove in the patio, heating ponche, tamales, and hot chocolate.  

At a few minutes before Midnight, the valley either could just not wait any longer, or had their clocks set just a bit faster than mine.  The entire valley (ringed by several aldeas and a pueblo) erupted.  I'm not sure I've ever experienced fireworks in quite that way -- one PCV friend texted me at midnight saying, "welcome to Apocolypo Christmas."  It was like all the fireworks a medium sized city in the U.S. lights off over the whole week of 4th of July packed into half an hour starting at midnight!  I took a video, and though my camera doesn't capture most of the visuals, just listen to the constant booms and pops and you'll get an idea of what I was experiencing.   

Toward the end you can hear Hendrick shouting, "Y ahora es tiempo de abrir regalos!" ("and now time to open presents!").  So, even though he knew exactly what he was getting, his enthusiasm for opening the presents seemed undiminished.  

Tio Oscar rolling out 25 meters of firecrackers.

One of the former volunteers in my site observed to the family (and they repeated to me): En Guatemala, no hay dinero para comer, pero si hay para quemar! (In Guatemala, there isn't money to eat, but there is money to burn!).  Once we had taken in as much explosions as we could handle (about half an hour later... the bursts showed no signs of stopping), we all trooped downstairs.  We all hugged and said Feliz Navidad,  opened presents, and had a second round of tamales.  I snuggled into bed around 1:30 a.m.  

My Chirstmas Corner of the room -- no tree, unfortunately.  

On Christmas day itself I had a Skype date with my family and participated in the round robin of opening presents, since my overly generous family had managed to send me plenty of packages (some of which are still on their way).  They munched on our traditional almond danish puff, I munched on more tamales.  The internet went out midway through, but it was enough to be able to kibitz with them some and share laughter.  I read Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol, which I'd found at the Peace Corps Office, and streamed holiday music from NPR's website.  We got back in touch later in the day to finish catching up and to fill one another in on the presents opened after we lost the connection.  

All in all, I enjoyed Christmas in Guatemala!  It's easier to escape the commercialization of the holiday when your town is more or less outside of the formal economy.  It was strangely fairly secular here, which I wouldn't have expected.  I missed some of my own traditions, and certainly always love having a White Montana Christmas, but it was a blast to see the excitement of my Site family when the fireworks started, and I was reduced to giggling, hopping and pointing with glee.  I hope the holiday was joyful for all of you -- whether full of old traditions or the beginning of some new ones!